


scars are memories given tangible form

by Jennalaia



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Stitches, darius is a prick and I hate him, gradual development of a relationship via injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 01:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennalaia/pseuds/Jennalaia
Summary: Therion doesn't like to be touched.





	scars are memories given tangible form

**Author's Note:**

> nappotuna on tumblr posted my previous alfion fic in their rec list and that motivated me to finish this after it's been sitting in my drafts for two months so you can thank them for this existing

Therion despised physical contact. Alfyn was the first to find out, after trying (and failing) to administer first aid on a nasty wound after a particularly grueling battle. Therion had batted him away and popped a few grapes in his mouth, claiming he was fine. Alfyn didn't believe it for a second, but didn't push it.

Primrose noticed next. Primrose, a handsy person by nature, made the mistake of wrapping an arm around Therion's shoulders one night at the tavern. Therion had, apparently on instinct, slammed her into the wall and would have stabbed her had H'aanit and Olberic not intervened. After that incident, everybody kept a respectable distance away.

Alfyn was the only one that made an effort to try to close the gap. Therion was the only one that refused to be healed, opting instead for Ophilia's clerical power or simply munching on a few healing grapes. But cleric magic and grapes, Alfyn knew, wouldn't save Therion from infections or illnesses. Only an apothecary could. One of these days Therion would have to turn to him.

But Therion refused.

Instead, Alfyn noticed some of his ready-made salves going missing, and Therion smelling suspiciously like the culprit. (Alfyn could detect a whiff of his healing balm from fifty yards away.) He didn't say anything; after all, if Therion didn't want to be touched, he would respect that. But Therion was no apothecary, and Alfyn couldn't quell the churning in his gut that soon Therion was going to make a mistake.

And so it came to an evening spent in Victor's Hollow. The party managed to secure an inn room for free, for once; Olberic's fame as the new tourney winner was already spreading.

"It appears the town already has your name on their tongues, Olberic," Ophilia quipped as she dropped her bag by a bed.

"Indeed," Olberic muttered. Alfyn looked closer. Was he... blushing? He was. _That's adorable,_ he thought.

"So who's sleeping where?" Tressa asked, sitting down on a bed. "I wanna sleep with Primrose!"

"I shalt sleepeth with Ophilia, then," H'aanit said.

"I suppose I shall share a bed with Eisenberg, then," Cyrus said. Olberic made no complaint, so it appeared that that was alright.

"Guess that just leaves..." Alfyn looked at Therion.

"I'm sleeping on the floor."

"Yeah, thought as much," Alfyn muttered. That was what Therion always chose; on the floor, by the door. Alfyn theorized it was because Therion didn't quite trust the party yet, despite the fact that they had been traveling together for quite a while. He always seemed to be ready to escape at a moment's notice.

"Well, if living arrangements are settled," Primrose said, dropping her bag, "let's be off to the tavern for dinner." 

* * *

Something stirred Alfyn from his slumber.

He wasn't quite sure what time it was, but he knew it was late. Everyone else in the room was dead asleep; Cyrus was snoring up a storm, as was Tressa, while Ophilia and H'aanit slept peacefully. Primrose was perfectly still, though Alfyn knew she was a light sleeper by nature and made as little sound as possible as he got out of bed. As he looked around, trying to determine the reason he woke up, his eyes alighted upon the door to their room. It was ajar. Even more telling, Therion was nowhere to be found.

As quietly as he could, Alfyn got up from the bed and dressed himself. After a moment's hesitance, he grabbed his apothecary bag and headed out the door.

Therion wasn't in the inn's lobby, so Alfyn went out into the night. The lamps had been put out, but fortunately the stars were bright, so Alfyn used their light to navigate. The whole town was still and quiet, as expected. Alfyn spotted a few bats flitting through the sky and a few nocturnal animals prancing through the forest on the edge of town.

Thanks to the lack of other human figures, it wasn't long before Alfyn spotted Therion, perched on the fence outside the arena. Something about his posture set alarm bells ringing in Alfyn's mind. He was hunched over, tension pooling in his shoulders. For reasons that Alfyn couldn't quite understand, his easygoing pace quickened to a trot, and the trot to a run, and the run to a sprint, until he skidded to a stop next to Therion.

The thief nearly fell off the fence in shock. He hurriedly righted himself before he tipped too far. "What are you doing up?" he snapped. "Go back to bed."

"Don't give me that," Alfyn replied. "Show me your wound."

Therion paused. "I'm not wounded."

"Like hell you aren't." Alfyn reached out. "Just let me--"

"Don't _touch_ me!" Therion hissed, jerking away. This time he did fall over, and hit the ground with a thud. Alfyn spotted that which he had tried to keep secret; it was hard to ignore the blood seeping through Therion's cloak.

Alfyn knelt at Therion's side, pulling aside the thief's cloak to get a better look. Therion yanked it back. "I said don't touch me!" he growled.

"Shut the hell up," Alfyn snapped, with such intensity that Therion blinked. "You think I'm just going to sit by while you're clearly injured? I get that you don't like people touching you, but sit still and let me _help_ you, idiot!"

Therion was stunned into silence long enough for Alfyn to pull up his shirt. As he feared, there was a nasty gash on his side that wasn't able to close up properly. Alfyn frowned. "You need stitches, Ther," he said. "Why were you quiet about this?"

"Don't call me that," Therion finally said, snapping out of it and slapping at Alfyn's hands. "It's not that serious."

"I'm a goddamn apothecary, Therion. I know a bad wound when I see one. If you don't get this treated it'll get infected." Alfyn tugged some more at Therion's shirt. "Let me help. Please?"

In all honesty, Alfyn was expecting Therion to shove him away. He was expecting Therion to refuse his help and force Alfyn to wait until his life was hanging by a thread before he could treat him. He was expecting Therion to pretend none of this ever happened and continue in his usual cold, brusque fashion.

Which made it all the more surprising when Therion lowered his gaze and muttered, "Fine."

"Let's not do this here," Alfyn said. "Let's get back to the inn, or somewhere a bit more private than the middle of the street." Oddly enough, Therion didn't protest, and a bewildered Alfyn guided him back to the inn and into an empty side room.

Alfyn retrieved his apothecary kit from his bag and turned to Therion. "Alright. Take off your cloak and shirt."

"You're such a pain in the ass," Therion grumbled, but he did as he was told. He unclasped the ratty purple cloak he always wore and tugged off his shirt, revealing a rather skinny torso pockmarked with scars. Alfyn didn't allow his eyes to linger on them for long; instead, he glanced at Therion's wrist, where the fool's bangle sat above some badly-wrapped bandages.

"You want me to rewrap those while I'm at it?" Alfyn asked, gesturing to the bandages on Therion's wrists.

"No," Therion replied curtly, and sat down on the bed. "You said you wanted to stitch the wound, so you're stitching the wound. I don't need these rebandaged."

"Did you bandage those yourself? Because you did a pretty crappy job."

"Shut up."

"Ah, so you did." Alfyn chuckled and got to work, mixing a disinfectant salve and applying it to Therion's wound. The thief sucked in a breath as the salve stung his flesh, but otherwise did not protest. Alfyn applied a numbing cream next and finally began to stitch the wound together.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Alfyn asked after a short period of silence. "I mean... I get that y'don't like bein' touched, Ther, but this has gotta _hurt_. I coulda done something if you just spoke up."

"Don't call me that," Therion complained, staring at the ceiling. "I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Therion, your skin is turning green."

"What's your point."

Alfyn sighed. "Look. I'll make you a deal, okay? You come to me for these sorts of things, and I won't tell anyone else about it. It'll just be our little secret." He snipped the stitching and set down the needle, pulling out bandages. "I don't wanna see you hurt because you're too prideful to say when you're injured, alright? That makes me look pretty shitty as the team medic."

"You're so annoying," Therion complained. "Fine."

"And I'm fixing those bandages," Alfyn announced.

"Wait, what-?"

Before Therion could react (which was surprising considering he had better reflexes), Alfyn grabbed the loose, messy bandages wrapped around his forearms and pulled. Therion's eyes widened in panic, and he tore away from Alfyn, leaving the bandages behind.

What was left exposed cut Alfyn's breath short. Littered on Therion's arms were scores of horizontal scars. Therion snatched up the sheet from the bed and covered himself, but it was too late. His single visible eye bore holes into Alfyn's skull.

"Therion... I..." For once, Alfyn was at a loss for words. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"Shut up," Therion snarled.

"I'm trying to apologize!"

"I don't want your apology, I want you to leave me alone!"

Alfyn looked at Therion's eye. It was hard and angry and... afraid.

"Hell," Alfyn muttered. "Ther, I'm not gonna leave you alone. I'm worried you're gonna hurt yourself again."

"I'm not--these aren't--"

"They are," Alfyn replied, digging around in his bag. "Now can I give you something to help the scars fade and wrap your arms up or not?"

He held out a hand, and Therion glared at it as if trying to turn it to dust. The whole of his slim, bony frame trembled with an emotion struggling against its bounds, and for a moment Alfyn was sure Therion was going to reject him and run away.

Then, all at once, all that tension drained out of the thief, and he sighed, defeated. "Fine," Therion murmured, thrusting out a wrist. "Just... hurry up."

Alfyn exhaled in relief and started wrapping Therion's wrists in clean bandages. "Do you, uh... wanna talk about it?" he asked, awkward.

"No," Therion replied.

"Okay, but... do you _need_ to talk about it?" Alfyn tried.

Therion sighed. "You're not going to let me out of this without answering, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine." Therion raked a hand through his hair, and for a moment Alfyn thought he saw something along Therion's cheek, but then it was obscured by his hair once more. "There's not much to tell. I had a partner--"

"Darius," Alfyn said without thinking. "Ya mentioned him before."

"...Yeah." Therion sighed. "He wasn't exactly a good person."

"Not that I'd expect ya to keep good company," Alfyn joked, trying to keep the mood light. Therion's deadpan stare made him clear his throat. "Sorry. I'll shut up. Continue."

"He was... my partner for a long time," Therion said quietly, as if struggling to get the words out. "We pulled a lot of jobs together. Had each other's backs. He... he was the person I trusted most."

"What happened?" Alfyn asked softly.

Therion stared at the ground so hard Alfyn was sure he was trying to set fire to the leaves with his eyes. It was a long time, so long that Alfyn wondered if the thief had fallen asleep with his eyes open, before Therion blurted out, "He tried to kill me."

Alfyn's blood ran cold. _"What?"_ he hissed.

"He pushed me off a cliff for a job that paid." Therion began scratching at his scarred arm in an anxious manner. "Nothing personal, he said. But it was personal to me. We were all the other could count on for _years_ and he just--threw me off like I didn't even _matter_ to him in the first--"

"Therion!" Alfyn grabbed Therion's arm, and Therion's fingers froze. "Get a hold of yourself, Ther," Alfyn said gently. "He's not here anymore. The only person around is me. And I'm an apothecary. It's my job to see that you don't hurt yourself. So stop scratching. Please?"

"I..." Therion whispered. "I don't know if I can."

"Then how 'bout this?" Alfyn laced his fingers between Therion's, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "The next time you feel like doin' that to yourself, or scratchin' at old wounds, or anything like that... come to me. And hold my hand until the urge goes away. I won't ever judge ya, and I won't turn ya away. I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore. Okay?"

Therion stared at Alfyn's hand in his, as if not quite comprehending its being there. Ever so slowly, his fingers curled around Alfyn's knuckles and soon he was holding Alfyn's hand as firmly as Alfyn was holding his. "That..." he said, and then trailed off. "That... but you're always busy."

"I'll make time," Alfyn said gently. "I promise."

"...Okay." To Alfyn's surprise, Therion relaxed entirely and shifted to a more comfortable position. "I'll come to you."

Alfyn gave a relieved smile. "Good. Now, ya got any other injuries that I should be worryin' about?"

Therion looked away for a moment, and then he slowly reached up and pulled his hair away from his face. Alfyn saw his whole face for the first time, and finally understood why Therion had grown out his bangs. Underneath his thick tufts of hair lay a dulled-out green eye and a jagged scar.

"It happened when I fell down the cliff," Therion mumbled, not looking at Alfyn. "I'm blind in this eye. So... in battle, if you could... cover me or something, I guess..."

"Say no more, Ther," Alfyn said. "Oops. Forgot you don't like bein' called that."

"...It's growing on me," Therion admitted grumpily, letting his hair fall back down. "Let's go back to the room. And--"

"I won't say anything to anyone else," Alfyn said before Therion could. "Patient confidentiality 'n all that. But I think you should mention you're half-blind at some point, Ther, so everyone can help ya out."

"Eventually," Therion grunted. He got up, but did not let go of Alfyn's hand.

"You still sleepin' on the floor?" Alfyn asked.

"...I guess I can tolerate a bed with you."

"That's what I like to hear."

And off they went.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually planning a new longer-term alfion fic!! stay tuned for details


End file.
